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— Good job, now follow me, — Ryan replied in a calm tone, writing all of it off as some kind of the girl’s quirks.
She slowly exhaled through parted lips, then lowered her hands and once again widened her eyes, looking down at her breasts, the nipples sticking out through the mesh.
— This is some kind of madness, — she breathed out, and for the first time there was something almost childlike and lost in her voice, — everything is both right and wrong at the same time...
Ryan snorted, then slowly turned, looking at the girl sideways, and took a step out of the cell.
— Follow me, — he muttered.
She stepped after him, but the moment she did, she almost kissed the concrete with her nose. A thin heel slid across the gray floor, her ankle strangely “collapsed” at a new angle, and her entire body weight shifted forward, making her hands instinctively fly up to keep balance. Her earrings swung, lightly tapping against her neck with a soft jingle, and the tattoos on her arms tensed along with the muscles.
— Shit! — burst out of her, and she froze, shifting from foot to foot, trying to catch her balance. Her breasts swayed again, reminding her of themselves with a heaviness that pulled downward, like a counterweight in this stupid circus act.
Ryan, who had already taken a couple of steps, stopped and looked back. His gaze slid over her — from her confused face down to her trembling hips in the tight glossy skirt. For a moment, something like sympathy flickered in his eyes, but it was immediately replaced by familiar fatigue.
— What, first time in heels? — he grumbled. — Or are you still putting on your little show? Come on, move. I don’t want to spend all day messing with you.
— Not the first, — she exhaled through clenched teeth, still trying to lock in her balance. — Just… go to hell with questions like that!
The phrase came out sharp, but along with it her leg trembled again. The heel slipped by a millimeter, and she had to abruptly fall silent, focusing on the most basic thing — not falling. Her knees bent slightly on their own, her torso leaned back, her breasts settled heavily and immediately reminded her of themselves with another jolt, as if her body were deliberately testing her limits.
— Then shut your mouth and walk, — Ryan said evenly, taking a sip of coffee and moving on without checking whether she was following.
She moved after him. One step — short. Another — even shorter. The heels answered with a dull knock that echoed upward, into her hips, into her lower back. The skirt restricted her movement, forcing her to keep her knees closer together than she wanted.
"Fuck it, this really isn’t turning me on at all..." she thought, taking slow steps across the floor, and that thought left an unpleasant emptiness inside.
Ryan reached the corner of the corridor and stopped by a metal door with a sign that read “Intake / Processing.” The door was slightly ajar, and the smell of cheap coffee and old paper drifted out from inside.